Moments in Time
by AquilaChrysaetos
Summary: A collection of short stories written for the BioWare Social Network 'Manifestos Welcome' prompt group. All set within the 'Vixen and the Crow' universe. N.B. The first three stories are duplicates, so sorry if you've read them before!
1. Remember, Remember

**Written for the prompt 'Misguided' from the BSN Anders Prompt Group, with my canon Hawke in mind, and inspired by the letter scene from _V for Vendetta_. My brain went off on a bit of a tangent here, but it's still mostly relevant, I hope!**

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><p><span>Remember, Remember<span>

He hit the floor of the cell hard as he was roughly shoved inside, scraping hands and knees. That was surely going to leave a mark. He turned back to face the templar who had dragged him here for his latest offence – disrupting Sister Tabitha's incessant preaching about how magic is a curse placed upon those deemed unworthy by the Maker with a well timed fireball to her skirt – and stared defiantly up at the armour clad man. Although he tried not to show it, the templar cut an imposing figure from this angle, tall and broad as he was, framed in the light from the doorway, his face cast in shadow.

"Just be glad you're new here filth." The man spat. "Let's see how you feel after a week or two in here. Bet you won't be so cocky then, eh?" The templar kicked his leg for good measure, then slammed the door shut.

The cell went dark as his eyes tried to adjust to the gloom barely lessened by the tiny window in the top left corner, and he heard the soft click of the lock. So this was to be his life for the foreseeable future. Wonderful.

After days of nothingness he began to pace, just to give himself something to do. He was already beginning to lose track of what the time was. He kicked out at the wall in frustration, and it was strangely loose where his foot made contact with it. He bent down to investigate, heart leaping in his chest at something new to occupy his thoughts. As he pulled a brick free of the wall he heard a strange scratching sound in addition to the scrape of the masonry. He lifted the brick and found a neatly folded piece of paper. A spell to get him out of here perhaps? He hastily opened the parchment and held it up to the scant light from the window. It was a letter, written in small neat script, and on closer inspection, in blood. Not something from a conventional spell book then. His curiosity piqued he began to read.

_I know there is no way I can convince you that this isn't a trick, but I don't care. I don't know what is going to happen to me, and I wanted to tell someone my story._

_I am the daughter of Thedas' most infamous apostate and the Champion of Kirkwall. Not that you would know who they are, as the Chantry would like to believe that their legacy died with them._

_Father was a revolutionary, enraged by the notion that mages are damned by default of birth, and constantly fighting for freedom from the shackles of the Chantry. He was also an abomination, merging with a spirit of Justice, which focused his resolve. Mother came to be a woman of some means and influence in the city of Kirkwall, she saw past the monster to the man within, and coming from a family of apostates, was sympathetic to his cause. It was inevitable that they fell in love._

_It was they who were responsible for the destruction of the Chantry in Kirkwall, despite what any revered mother might tell you. However misguided their actions, they sent out a message to the rest of Thedas – that mages wanted their freedom._

_As the Circles rose up against their oppressors my parents went into hiding. I arrived some years later. Despite the war raging around us, I remember my childhood fondly, coming into my power with a gentle teacher and loving support. I was lucky._

_But after more than a decade of fighting, people became more desperate. Blood mages ran amok, and many mages, not knowing how to live outside the Circle used their powers for ill. The general populace rose up against them. Without the support of the people many mages lost heart and then it was easy for the templars to subdue them. Gradually things returned to the way they had been for the last thousand years, except this time the Chantry would take no chances. Mass unmarked graves are all that remains of the great mage rebellion._

_I loved my father dearly. But he would have been horrified by what followed in the wake of the war he started. I am glad he is not here to see it. He was killed, executed, by the Prince of Starkhaven no less. A former brother of the Chantry who forced father to his knees as he begged for my life, forced mother to watch as the man she loved was cruelly beaten, before aiming at the base of father's skull and loosing his 'righteous' fury. Proof, if any were needed, that one need not be an abomination to exact bloody vengeance upon those we feel have wronged us._

_Mother and I managed to remain hidden for many years after that man took father away from us, although she was never quite the same. But eventually mother's luck ran out, and Chantry Seekers followed her home. They took us away, separated us, locked me in here. I don't expect I shall ever see her again. _

_So this is my confessional, in the hope that you will take what you have learned and share it. The Chantry, the Templars, they do not want anyone in this place to know what happened. Although I cannot condone my father's actions, I also cannot deny the need for action. If the Chantry thinks it can continue to enslave generations of people who have committed no crime, save that of simply existing, with no repercussions then they are sorely mistaken. A time will come when they can contain us no longer._

_Mage children will continue to be born. They can lock us away, strip away all that we are, until the tiniest flicker is all that is left. But within that flicker lies hope, and the desire of all beings to be free, to live and love as we choose. For believe me when I say, that even though I do not know you, you are my brother, my sister, my friend, and I love you, with all my heart._

_I love you._

_Valerie Hawke_

He clutched the letter to his heart as he finished, hot tears making their way down his face. In the days which followed the letter, kept carefully and lovingly folded in an inside pocket, was the only thing which kept away the whisperings of demons prickling at the edges of his thoughts.

Nearly three weeks after he had first been imprisoned the door opened, and he was almost blinded by the light which flooded his cell. He was pulled out, marched down a corridor, and after being checked over by a senior enchanter, dumped unceremoniously back into his dormitory.

At the earliest possible opportunity he made his way over to a group of apprentices he knew had all had run-ins with the templars in the past. They didn't seem inclined to talk to him, he assumed because he had been so recently released from solitary, as they turned away from him. He walked up quickly and grabbed one of them by the arm so that they couldn't ignore him.

"You don't happen to know of someone called 'Hawke' do you?" He asked.

"Not personally, no." Said the older boy, eyeing him, and the room warily. "She's over there." He pointed to a tall woman reaching to pull a book from a high shelf in the far corner.

Her coppery-blonde hair was tied back in a neat pony tail, and she was so thin as to be almost waif-like. As he made his way over to her he noted the collection of bruises along her slender wrist. She succeeded in her task as he drew level, and noticing his presence she turned to him.

"Hello, may I help you?" The voice which escaped her lips was not what he had expected - eerily calm and placid. Bright green eyes set in an ageing face regarded him with a glassy stare, dulled by the angry red sun upon her forehead.

The letter in his pocket had ignited something in him, and now that he looked upon this woman's tranquil face it was ablaze in his heart.


	2. Lament

**Song Fic prompt from the BSN. Song was 'Arwen's Song' from The Lord of the Rings Soundtrack. Stream of consciousness-y thoughts from Anders in those five minutes where his life hangs in the balance.**

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><p><span>Lament<span>

The sounds of battle fade into the distance, a deathly hush descending on the market square, now littered with the bodies of templars. The harsh red glow piercing the night sky, a mark of the destruction he has wrought, has transmuted into twisting ribbons of light. Time to decide his fate, if deciding were an option. He is already certain of the consequences of his actions. He will defer to the woman standing tall behind him, just the Champion now, no longer his partner. He has given up that right. And he will submit to her judgement.

_With a sigh you turn away_

She cannot bear to look at him. But he owes her the explanation, the reasons for the obliteration of the life she has built here. He hears her shuddering breath, a sound only he could discern, the only sign of her distress. And he, in turn, cannot bear to see.

_With a deepening heart_

He warned her, so many times he warned her. But that does not make his betrayal any less. He dared not trust her, not for fear of her disapproval, but that he might find as much in her the monster he has become. He could not let that be, this the only way to keep her soul untainted. But the sting of it, the deepest parts of her laid bare to him, and yet he could not return the gift. Until now. He can almost feel her heart break.

_No more words to say_

Mouth moving automatically; there is nothing she can say to him he hasn't already said to himself. She understands, and is silent. She knows. There must be a sacrifice, a martyr. And she must be the example. The righteous hand of justice. She will do what must be done. She kneels before him in wordless acknowledgement and mournful farewell.

_You will find that the world has changed forever._

Change which she must witness alone. He is the spark, fleeting but necessary, and she the flame, burning bright and warm. Nothing will be the same in the wake of this. And he knows she will oversee it with the same fervour as ever she did. Bearing the torch he has now passed to her with pride and determination. She will ensure this act was not in vain.

_And the trees are now turning from green to gold_

A transition filled with melancholy regret. Yet he never could have imagined that in these final years he would find something so wonderful. It was only in the autumn of his life that he truly understood the beauty of the world. Shining moments, full of warm colour and soft light.

_And the sun is now fading_

His life stretches before him, every laugh and every tear, every mistake, every triumph. All shall pass away and turn to ashes, the darkness will descend. Now it is at an end. He has always wanted freedom. There is no truer freedom than this.

_I wish I could hold you closer._

She will never know all the ways she touched his soul. And now he must push her away. Every fibre of his being screams for one last chance to touch, caress, kiss, love. But he cannot deserve her now. He takes some comfort in the knowledge that even when he is gone there will still be some part of him left to watch over her, his memories entwined with those of a spirit of the fade, his love for her stretching on into all eternity.

His heart beats loud in his ears, body thrumming with life, in contrast to the inevitable and imminent end. Shining tracks wind their way down his face, and downcast eyes squeeze shut. Gasping, shallow breaths come quick as he awaits the cold press of steel to his heart. He is ready.

The gentle hand at his face is unexpected. A sharp intake of breath and a flinch halted by his craving for the comfort of her. She will do as he did for Karl then. But no. Slender fingers raise his chin upwards, and he cannot help but to open his eyes. The sight meeting them is that of a wounded animal, lost and afraid. If this is his punishment then it is justly deserved. He cannot hold her gaze.

Soft thumbs brush away his tears, and practiced hands tuck away loose strands of hair. Then she stands, and surprises him still after all these years. Her hand is extended, open. An invitation. A chance at redemption.

A wave of relief then. His heart swells as he looks upon her face again, hope and love in equal measure. Resolve is both shattered and strengthened in an instant. A shaking hand finds hers, and he allows himself to be pulled up to stand beside her. She will be an example; of love, compassion, mercy. And together they will change the world.


	3. Lyrium Delirium

**Written for the prompt 'Delirious'. An excerpt from a longer not yet published story. Justice likes the lyrium in the Deep Roads and takes Anders along for the ride.**

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><p><span>Lyrium Delirium<span>

As ever they were sleeping with their backs against the walls at Vivien's behest. Anders was no master strategist, but it was something Commander Lynara had done whenever they ventured into the Deep Roads, so the logic seemed sound. And he could not deny that the ability to see most of his surroundings stretched before him did wonders for his claustrophobia – although he would never admit as much to his companions.

No, there was now another, much more pressing problem. Something he had not even considered would be an issue until he had arrived in areas of the Deep Roads less ravaged by the blight. He knew Justice had a fondness for enchanted items, and particularly that ring of unrefined lyrium Lynara found in Kal'Hirol, which no-one but he, Sigrun or Oghren could touch. But Anders had never asked the spirit exactly why this was, and since their joining several months ago it was not a thought that had occurred to either of them.

Now he was sincerely regretting this lack of information. The small room Vivien and Varric had deemed an appropriate camping spot was practically covered in lyrium veins. Great swathes of it hung down from the ceiling, or protruded from the walls, like the roots of some ancient, enormous tree. And it was _singing_ to him. It was the sound of bells, or the ringing of hammer on anvil, and the hum of enchanted weaponry. Each not wholly unpleasant sounds if Anders concentrated on one at a time, but together they were a great cacophony of noise, which left him feeling disorientated. Justice however, was nearly euphoric, seemingly oblivious to Anders' discomfort. It was intrusive and yet oddly enticing all at the same time. Gradually Anders began to feel what his friend did, as the spirit's reaction greatly overpowered his own. His mind flickered between revulsion and desire, unable to focus on anything else, before settling into a kind of joyful lucid dreaming.

A voice drifted to him through the haze. "What are you so happy about?" It was Vivien. Sweet, sweet Vivien.

"Ah, it's beautiful here." He said, almost sighing the words, as he turned his gaze upwards and twisted around to better admire the interlocking stems lacing the ceiling.

"I'd hardly call the Deep Roads beautiful. With all the glowy lyrium around here I'd say eerie is more appropriate. Creepy maybe." Vivien remarked.

"No, no!" Anders cut across her. "The colours, see how they shine! Like moonlight or the fade." He looked back at the woman standing in front of him, willing her to see, a silly grin plastered over his face.

"O-kay." Vivien responded sceptically, an eyebrow raised and her head cocked to one side.

Anders grabbed her arm and pulled her close beside himself. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and with the other he pointed to the intersection of two large veins in the roof. "Look! Where they cross. The most exquisite pattern . . ." He trailed off, slipping into reverie.

"Yes, beautiful." Vivien said absently. She turned towards where her sister and Varric were still setting up camp, eyes pleading as she mouthed 'Help me!'. Bethany was the first to notice, and she walked over, a puzzled frown crinkling her brow.

"What are you two standing in the middle of the room for?"

The new voice seemed to break into Anders thoughts, and he turned to her with a rapturous gleam in his eyes. "Bethany! You are a mage, you understand!" He exclaimed, releasing his hold on Vivien and moving to grasp Bethany's hands. "Can you not hear the singing? The chorus of the very earth around us?" Bethany looked from Anders' earnest face, to her sister's mildly horrified expression and back again. Anders dropped her hands then. "Come, listen closer." He said, beckoning her in the direction some of the slightly lower veins.

"Vaarric!" Vivien called, panic rising in her voice.

The dwarf, who had been watching the three humans' exchange from afar was now worried enough to get involved. "Any ideas?" He asked.

"None. This isn't like Anders' usual brand of crazy. Bethany doesn't seem to know what's going on either." Vivien replied, her eyes never leaving the two mages in the corner. She and Varric began to walk over, when Anders spotted another root-like lyrium formation sticking out of the wall at chest height. Distracted by the proximity of this new found fascination, he positively skipped towards it.

"What's he doing?" Varric asked in disbelief to no-one in particular.

As Anders drew closer he could hear the ringing song more clearly, and the lyrium was exuding an ethereal blue light. It sent shivers down his spine. He wanted to touch it, to _feel_ the vibrations that were calling to him. "Ooooh."

"Blondie, NO!" Varric almost screamed. He closed the gap between them in three quick strides, and knocked Anders' outstretched hands away before any damage was done. Then he stood between the lyrium and Anders, acting as a kind of barrier.

Anders staggered back, and his eyes glowed a little as he stared accusingly down at the dwarf. "Why did you do that?"

"You can't touch that Blondie." Varric's voice was calm and measured, despite the fact that his chest was heaving. "It'll hurt you."

"Oh, okay." Anders responded with almost child-like disappointment, rather than the anger that the light in his eyes implied. He looked down for a moment, slightly abashed, before becoming distracted once more by the strange music.

"Right, that's it." Vivien's exasperated voice came from behind him, before she wrapped her arms around his chest, pinning his own arms down, in a vice-like grip.

"Ooh, cuddles. Anders likes those!" Anders giggled, turning his head towards Vivien's.

"Yes well, _Vivien_ would very much like the real Anders back now, thanks." She said, lifting his feet from the floor somewhat awkwardly.

Anders giggled again at this. "Wheee! We're flying!"

Vivien grunted as Anders wiggled around, legs flailing slightly, and staggered towards the door. Suddenly Anders was worried.

"Wait, we're going away from the music!"

"It's alright, we're going on an adventure, to find more of the music." Vivien said, as though speaking to a child. "We have to go away from it for a little while before we find it again."

"But we won't be away for too long will we?"

"No, we won't." Vivien lied smoothly. Once she had carried Anders a full corridor length back the way they had come she set him down. He was a little calmer. Vivien bent forwards, hands on knees, to catch her breath. Anders watched her, bouncing on his toes. "Think you can walk from here?"

"Alright." He replied, somewhat reluctantly.

"Good."

Vivien turned the corner with Anders beside her cautiously, despite having cleared these passages of darkspawn less than an hour ago. On seeing nothing dangerous she continued leading Anders away. The further they got from the lyrium filled room, the more Anders seemed to return to himself, until after almost five minutes of walking he turned to Vivien.

"What are we doing?"

"Walking." Vivien said simply.

"Yes, but, _why_?" Anders asked, his confusion writ large on his face.

"To get you away from the shiny room that turns you into a gibbering mess. A _happy_ gibbering mess, but a gibbering mess nonetheless." Vivien's tone was not unkind, even though she was teasing.

Anders moaned, rubbing at his forehead just above his eyes. He leaned back against a pillar. "It was the lyrium. Justice . . . likes it. It sings to him."

"Hmm, so you said." Vivien said, suppressing a smirk. "The 'chorus of the earth' if I remember correctly."

"Ugh." Anders seemed vaguely disgusted by that notion. "It was more like clanging swords, or bells. Very loud bells." His eyes fluttered closed and he pressed two fingers to each temple, small wisps of healing magic casting his face in light which almost made him look peaceful.

"Personally I have to question Justice's taste in music, but each to their own I suppose." Vivien said with an amused shrug.

"Nope, no good." Anders said, ignoring Vivien, as he began fumbling in the pouches on his belt for a potion. "Maker, my head feels like I've been kicked with a plate mail boot."

"Yes well, a bad trip will do that to you. In future Anders, just say no." She said, mischief lighting her eyes.

Anders regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "You're incorrigible, Vivien, you do know that don't you?"

"Yup." She responded brightly.

Anders downed the small potion with a grimace and closed his eyes again as he felt it begin to work. He sighed gently, stoppering the empty bottle and sliding it back into the pouch it had come from. Despite her rather inappropriate joking about what could have been a much more dangerous situation he was still inordinately happy that she wasn't scared. She had just as calmly accepted this new fact about him as she had when he had told her about his merger with Justice. Once again he found he was grateful to have someone like her in his life.

"So, shall we go back and find the others?" Vivien asked, obviously becoming twitchy at their already relatively small group diminishing in size even further.

"Yes," Anders replied, "but I'd better stay away from that room. And we'll have to find somewhere else to sleep."

"Anything so long as I don't have to drag you bodily down a corridor again. You might look like you're made of bits of hedgerow, but you're really, really not."

"Hey!" Anders cried, vaguely offended.

Vivien simply smiled at him, and he couldn't stay annoyed at her. "Feeling better now?" She asked.

"Yes, much thanks."

"Good." She said, nodding. "Come on then." She swept past him, setting a brisk pace.

Anders smiled at Vivien's rather unique way of making him feel less embarrassed about the whole episode, before he realised he was staring at her retreating form. He shook himself and ran to catch up with her for the short walk back to camp.


	4. Never Coming Back

**BSN Prompt 'Leave'. Anders and Karl attempt to flee the Circle Tower together. An exploration of why Karl is sent to Kirkwall.**

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><p><span>Never Coming Back<span>

They carried on running until the sky became tinged with green, then gradually turned from rosy pink to a bright gold. Almost like a herald of things to come. They had stood to watch it, captivated by the beauty of something so simple as watching a sunrise as free men.

But bad luck had found them on a templar patrol route at just the wrong time. They were barely three miles from the Circle Tower. It was a stupid mistake. Once drained of their mana, hands bound behind their backs they had had little choice but to comply, and return to their gilded cage.

And that was how he and his lover had ended up standing in First Enchanter Irving's office, surrounded by templars and disapproving looks.

"The Knight-Commander and I have come to a decision." Irving said, surveying the two men over clasped hands. "Anders, I fear we have been too lenient in the past, and it has given you the false impression that your continued disobedience has no repercussions. We cannot allow this latest escape attempt to go unpunished."

Anders scoffed at this. "Yeah, you've been _so_ understanding about me not wanting to be locked in this prison." He drawled.

Irving ignored this remark and continued. "Karl, I would have thought you more sensible than to get caught up in Anders' little escape fantasies. And so recently I suggested to Wynne that you would make a good Enchanter. I am quite disappointed."

Karl could not meet the First Enchanter's eyes. He muttered something which sounded like 'I'm sorry.'

"I have tolerated your relationship." Irving said. Karl and Anders both then turned to stare at the man in surprise. "Yes, I have been aware of it for some time. The young apprentices are less than careful about who over hears their gossiping." Irving responded, almost fondly. His face became serious again before he continued. "But if this is the result of it, then you will have to be separated. Karl, there is a place for you in the Circle at Kirkwall, they are short on spirit healers there."

Karl nodded mutely, swallowing hard and suppressing a small shudder. Anders looked between the two of them, hating how resigned Karl seemed. "I convinced him to come with me, he's never done _anything_ wrong in this Maker forsaken place before. Punish me if you have to, not Karl!"

"Anders, don't." Karl said, a pained look on his face.

"Would that I could young man." Irving replied, a steely note entering his voice, as though he wished he could do exactly as Anders suggested. "But Kirkwall does not require more apprentices, and it would be foolish to move you to another Circle so close to your Harrowing."

Anders was about to argue further when Karl spoke. "First Enchanter." He said softly. "If this is the way it has to be, then can we at least be allowed one last night, to say our goodbyes?"

"You can't _let_ them do this Karl! Fight it!" Anders said angrily.

"There's nothing I can do, Anders." Karl said dejectedly, hanging his head. "I'm sorry."

Anders reached out and touched Karl's arm. The other man started a little at the contact, but did not pull away. Anders turned to Irving then, if one more night was all he could get then he would take it. But the First Enchanter was shaking his head sorrowfully.

"No, no! You can't do this to us! It isn't fair!" Anders cried.

"I am sorry, I truly am, but I cannot allow you even tonight, knowing that you are both spirit healers, _and_ that you feel so strongly. We cannot risk the safety of everyone else for your sakes."

Anders was outraged at this. "We're not going to enter into some bat-shit blood pact together and go on an abominated rampage, if that's what you're thinking! We're not all as fucked up as you and the Knight-Commander, _First Enchanter_." He spat.

"Enough!" Irving stood up angrily. "I will not be spoken to in such a manner! Hadley."

The Knight-Commander's second moved towards Anders at Irving's beckoning and grasped him firmly by the arms, pulling him away from Karl. Anders twisted and writhed as he railed against this new injustice.

"No!" He nearly screamed, as he managed to break free of the templar's grip and rush over to where Karl was standing. He threw his arms around Karl's neck and kissed him deeply, desperately, praying that somehow this was a dream, and he would wake up somewhere far away from here. Karl seemed to sense that this was a last chance, as he in turn pressed his lips feverishly against Anders own, and pulled him into a tight embrace. The tang of salt-water mingled with the familiar taste of Karl's mouth, as the older man choked back a sob. Then strong, gauntleted hands were at his shoulders and they were ripped apart.

Anders struggled in vain against the templar who held him in an iron grip, hands clawing futilely at armour clad arms, legs kicking out uselessly. His face was a picture of rage and pain, streaked with tears. Karl too had to be restrained, although less forcibly than Anders.

Irving sighed heavily, rubbing at his forehead. "Take him away please." He said to Hadley. "Gently. Give him some time to calm down."

Anders eyes were wild as he strained against Hadley's grip. He didn't care that the edges of the templar's armour plates were cutting into his chest. "No, no. Karl!" He managed to extricate one arm and reach out towards the other mage, as though if he could only reach him the First Enchanter might change his mind. Karl seemed to have the same idea.

But another templar joined the one behind him, and together they dragged him protesting from the room. His outstretched fingers just managed to graze Karl's, and they locked eyes for a moment. The expression on the other mage's face was that of a lost little boy, and full of regret and something else Anders didn't have the words for. He was never sure why, but at that moment he was acting on pure instinct, and just before he lost sight of the other man's face he cried, "I love you, Karl!"

He never heard a response, if there had even been one, as he was cuffed by a cold, metal elbow. But he did hear the broken sobs of a kind and wonderful man, and something inside of him broke as well. All of the fight drained out of him then, and his body hung limp as a ragdoll for the duration of his journey to the base of the tower. Once there he was unceremoniously thrown into one of the solitary confinement cells.

"Cool off in there." Hadley said, before closing the door on him.

Anders curled up into a ball in the corner, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging his head. He hoped against hope that the demons circling like carrion crows would not hound his fitful sleep, and the First Enchanter might change his mind.

When Anders was let out of his cell the following day Karl was already gone. The half-hearted escape attempt he made later on was only so that they would throw him back in a cell, and he could be alone again. That way none of the other apprentices would be able to see him cry himself to sleep.


	5. Shore Leave

**The second fill for the 'leave' prompt, because I had two ideas I liked for this one. I wanted to take a less literal approach and go with the military meaning of being 'on leave'. Hawke and Anders take a short break from the world.**

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><p><span>Shore Leave<span>

Anders was staring into that night's dinner and stirring listlessly. He was hunched over on the small log that served as a seat, head resting heavily on a hand propped up by his elbow. He barely noticed when Vivien, finished fishing out bowls and forks from their packs, moved to sit beside him. The glow from the fire only served to highlight the dark shadows under his half-lidded eyes and the hint of grey in the hair at his temples. As she looked at him she was forcibly struck with how exhausted he seemed, in that moment he could have been ten years older and she would not have been surprised. Justice had been a particularly difficult passenger of late, his renewed fervour making up for Anders' absence from the mage underground for over a year and a half now. Vivien felt a great swell of pity and love for them both then, her eyes shining more than usual in the firelight. She reached out and gently stroked the backs of her fingers along the scruffy stubble of his cheek. Anders let out a soft breath as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. The tiniest of smiles graced his lips.

"Anders, why don't you let me do that for a while?" Vivien said quietly. Her fingers wandered to his hairline, tracing the outline of his ear. The hand keeping the stew from catching on the base of the pot stilled for a moment.

"Mmm, it's alright Vi. It'll be ready soon enough." He replied dreamily.

Vivien trailed her fingers to the base of his skull, gently tugging at small tangles, and moving in soothing circles to ease the tension there. Anders let his head loll to one side, almost feline in the way he purred a sigh.

"Yes, but are you sure you'll be ready to eat it? You look like you're about to fall face-first into the fire." She said, voice low and concerned. Her other hand ran along his forearm down to his hand in an effort to extricate the spoon from his own long fingers.

The contented smile at Anders lips grew into a smirk then. He allowed Vivien's fingers to find his own, but deftly danced them away when she made to prize them from the spoon. "Vi, you know I love you, but the last time I let you near the kitchen it took a fortnight to get rid of the smell of burning." He said, opening one eye and peering at her from underneath the short hairs which had escaped their bonds.

"Oh come on, it wasn't _that_ bad!"

Anders gave an amused 'hmmph' and raised one eyebrow as he lifted his head to look at her properly.

"Just give it here. If I can ruin food just by stirring it then I think there's something seriously wrong with me!" Vivien said, exasperated, motioning for him to hand her the spoon. Seeing that Vivien wasn't going to give up Anders dutifully passed her the wooden utensil. Vivien smiled in thanks and gave their stew a cursory stir before turning back to him. "You've been working so hard lately - you deserve a rest. Varric and Merrill are nearly done with the bed rolls, I could wake you when dinner's ready if you like?" She cajoled.

Anders shuffled closer to Vivien and laid his head gently on her shoulder. "I'm fine just here thanks." He said contentedly, closing his eyes.

"Hey, Daisy, didn't you say there was a herb you wanted to collect that you could only get at twilight?" Varric said suddenly, and quite loudly. Were it not for the fact she could see them out of the corner of her eye, Vivien could almost have forgotten the two of them were there, they had been so quiet. She looked up to listen in on their conversation, which was infinitely more interesting than stirring.

"I don't remember saying anything like that Varric." Merrill said, nonplussed.

"I'm sure you did Daisy. On the way out, I knew this spot looked familiar."

Vivien was quite certain that they had not passed anywhere near this small cove on their outward journey.

"No, I don't think -"

"Yes, it was just over that little bluff. I bet you'll remember once you see it." Varric said decisively. He pushed himself to standing. "Come on." He beckoned Merrill away with a significant look and a nod towards the fire.

Vivien watched as Merrill's eyes opened almost comically wide. "Oh!" She said, realisation finally dawning on her. "Oh yes! I completely forgot! I need some . . . Vhenadahl leaves!" Merrill said with obvious deception. She hurried off to follow the dwarf.

Once the pair of them were a sufficient distance away Vivien chuckled quietly to herself. "Subtle Varric, very subtle." She muttered.

"Shouldn't you know by now that he doesn't do subtle?" Anders murmured. "The latest tale doing the rounds is about you riding a dragon to Kirkwall – classic Varric."

"Oh, only a small embellishment then. It was really a griffon." Vivien quipped.

Anders smiled at that. The couple sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the occasional popping of the fire, and the rhythmic lapping of the waves on the shore. Too soon Anders sighed and lifted his head from Vivien's shoulder. "I should probably make a start on some potions if you're going to look after dinner."

Vivien was dismayed at this. She grabbed his arm to prevent him from getting up. "Anders, you don't need to be constantly doing things. There's nothing urgent we have to do or get back for. If you don't slow down I'm worried you'll just burn out, and I'll find you one day in your clinic . . ." She let the sentence trail away, a desperate and pleading edge to her voice.

"Vivien." Anders said, in a conciliatory way, a hand finding her face. "You know Justice and I could no more ignore the recent situation than forget how to breathe."

"No, you can't, and that's one of the reasons I love you. But right here and now there is nothing you can do about it. Let's just have tonight for ourselves. No mages, no templars, just two people enjoying each other's company." Vivien said earnestly.

Something in either her tone or her words seemed to have reached him, because he leaned forward and placed his forehead against hers. "Alright." He said softly. "Time away from the world with you, I think I can manage that." He brought his other hand up to lightly caress her cheek, and Vivien smiled. They both closed their eyes, enjoying the simple contact for a moment. "What would I do without you?" Anders whispered, almost sighed, as he leaned in closer and ghosted a kiss over Vivien's lips. She returned the light pressure through a contented smile, all thoughts of dinner momentarily forgotten.

Loathed as she was to break the slow, sensual movements of his mouth against hers, Vivien knew that Anders needed to rest, and this would likely be the only time for a while she could persuade him to do so. She moved her head back and away, so that he could not follow. He seemed so peaceful then, eyes still closed, moist lips slightly parted, and Vivien wished that the world was a better place, so that this expression never had to leave his face.

He opened his eyes then, and regarded her in that unfathomable way of his, making her feel as though she were the most precious thing in the world. He swayed a little, a movement which betrayed how tired he really was, and his head dipped forwards. Vivien pulled him back towards herself, concerned that he might fall towards the fire. He nuzzled her neck as she held him close.

"Lie down." She said softly, gently tugging his hair loose from the battered strip of leather tying it back. Vivien felt his shoulders relax as he hummed in agreement. He let his head slide down her body and into her lap, barely adjusting his position for comfort at all. Vivien combed her fingers gently through his hair, and Anders gave a happy sigh.

"I love you Vi, never forget that." He murmured sleepily.

"I love you too, Anders."

When Varric and Merrill returned to camp they found Vivien and Anders both slumped by the fire, fast asleep, and a half a pot of lightly charred stew.


	6. Nimble Fingers

**This week's prompt was 'languid'. As I couldn't get my mind out of the gutter I decided to dispense with my pesky smut-virginity. So yes, that rating _has_ gone up! Vivien Hawke is fed up with Anders' terrible lute playing and decides a distraction is in order.**

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><p><span>Nimble Fingers<span>

_Twang._

Vivien tapped her quill against her chin and tried not to wince at the sounds coming from across the room by the fire. Anders had a fine singing voice certainly, but one thing he was not possessed of was any skill whatsoever with the lute.

A collection of discordant notes had been assaulting her ears for the better part of thirty minutes now, and it was severely impairing her ability to respond to the pile of correspondence on her desk. Vivien tried to drift off into that happy place where the air smelt of wet grass and the only sounds punctuating the silence were birdsong and the scratching of her quill. Tried and failed. She heard Anders curse under his breath as his fingers murdered yet another chord.

She gripped her quill tightly in an effort to restrain the urge to break that blighted lute over Anders' pretty head. He seemed so determined to improve that such an action would be like kicking a puppy. A puppy that hadn't been fed for days. With liquid brown eyes and a 'love me?' expression. Besides, that lute was pretty much the only thing Orana owned, and the poor girl didn't deserve to be punished for Anders' shortcomings.

Vivien reached a decision. She was obviously going to get no work done, and Anders had to be dissuaded from future reinterpretation of the word 'music'. Surely she could soften the blow by wrapping it in concern for his wellbeing. This could become a much more pleasant distraction from pandering to inane requests from Kirkwall's nobles.

She set her quill down and scraped the chair backwards. Anders stopped playing abruptly at this unexpected movement, but Vivien did not turn around until all trace of the smirk at her cunning plan had disappeared. She left the desk and sauntered across the room to where Anders was sitting, noting that he watched her as she did so.

When she knelt down in front of him he smiled at her, so full of genuine affection that she almost felt guilty for the less than favourable thoughts she had been having about him. Almost.

"Come to listen to me play?" He asked, turning back to the lute and giving the strings an experimental strum which wasn't wholly terrible, as a sardonic edge crept into his voice.

Vivien hummed noncommittally. "You're distracting me." A statement that was both true and accurate, if not intended as an entirely positive remark.

Anders merely raised an eyebrow at this. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'd better stop then. I know how much you _love_ writing notes to Kirkwall's finest." He said sarcastically.

The laugh that escaped her lips was harsh, and she rolled her eyes, before returning her gaze to his face. She fixed him with an intense stare. "Actually, I was more concerned for you. You've been playing for a while now, and you're not used to it – your fingers will get sore."

The mage stared back at her incredulously, then lifted a hand from the neck of the lute and wiggled his fingers. Tiny sparks arced across the small gaps between them in waves, crackling with power. "In case you'd forgotten love, I _am_ a healer." He leaned in closer to whisper.

Vivien smiled indulgently. "Yes, but lute players have calloused fingertips. I like your hands Anders; they're so soft and dextrous, and there are so many wonderful things you can do with them. I wouldn't want anything to happen to them."

She reached for the hand still resting against the lute, holding it gently in her own cupped palms. The electricity wreathing his other hand fizzled out and died as he allowed her to pull his hand towards her, watching curiously.

"Your fingers are so very talented, I'm sure we can put them to better use." She said, her voice a sultry whisper. She drew light circles around the palm of his hand, moving with almost reverent care. Anders' eyes fluttered closed as he breathed a sigh, the barest hint of an 'ooh' escaping his lips.

Pleased with herself at achieving her goal without wounding Anders' pride, Vivien continued her exploration of his hands. She trailed all four fingers across his palm back towards herself, and along the gaps between his own impossibly long fingers. The lute slipped in his lap as he shifted a little, and tutting he grabbed the instrument and discarded it somewhere behind himself.

Turning her hand over she ran her nails back down his fingers, brushing across his palm again and down to his wrist. She barely made contact with his skin, but he gasped all the same. Vivien continued the feather light touch along his forearm, almost painfully slowly, stroking her meandering way towards the crook of his elbow. Anders hummed quietly, and lightening quick grabbed her hand, holding it still against his arm.

"Vivien, that's really lovely, but uhh . . ." He breathed, brain stalling as she drew a languorous pattern over the hyper sensitive flesh of his wrist with the other hand.

"Why in such a rush?" Vivien said, bending her head to press a butterfly kiss to his palm. As she did so she found that his fingers curled to cup her chin, grazing along her neck. She felt a pleasant shiver run through her body.

"I don't rightly know." He replied, as though in a dream. The grip on her hand became lax, and his fell away.

Vivien had only wanted to tease him a little, but she found herself becoming steadily more enraptured by the reactions she was drawing from him. And now that Anders could reach her skin, and was returning the barest hint of a caress over her cheek she felt the familiar creep of desire move steadily down her spine.

She turned into his touch, brushing her lips along the length of his thumb. He obviously had been over zealous in his strumming because the skin was just slightly too warm and too smooth. Vivien breathed out a chastisement. "Anders, you must take more care of yourself, let me make it better." Her tongue darted out to flick against his thumb-tip.

Anders sucked in a sharp breath as he bit his lip. Vivien shot him a sideways glance, a dirty smirk blossoming across her mouth. Humming appreciatively she gripped the digit gently between her teeth at the knuckle and swirled her tongue around it. A stifled whimper reached her ears as Anders watched her.

She looked up at him then. The hand that was not already preoccupied was gripping tightly onto his knee, in an effort to prevent it from travelling further up his leg to where Vivien noticed a distinct bulge. A voiceless 'hah!' issued from her, and she caught his gaze with her own. Without breaking eye contact she slid the full length of his thumb into her mouth, sucking on it gently.

Anders couldn't help but let out a moan then at the wanton expression on her face and the implications of her movements. His hips jerked ever so slightly. Vivien seemed to have broken his resolve because he swiftly uncrossed his legs to kneel in front of her. Those long fingers found their way past her cheek and into her hairline. She released her grip on him ever so slightly as she sighed contentedly. Anders took the opportunity to slide his saliva slicked thumb free, running it over her lips as he tilted her head back.

Then his mouth was on hers, crushing their lips together with a muffled 'mmph' as he pulled her head upwards. He leaned into her pressing the length of his body against hers, seeking all possible contact. Vivien felt the heat of his arousal through their clothes, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer as she felt herself tip backwards. He lowered her gently onto the rug, settling over her.

He dragged his hand over the planes of her neck and collarbone, catching at the fabric pulled taught over her chest, and down until he found the hem of her dress, kissing her deeply all the while. Fingers slid beneath the cloth as he pushed it up to her hip. He toyed with the edge of her underwear between thumb and forefinger. Vivien let out an incoherent noise, and Anders broke the kiss.

"Talented fingers, eh?" He considered, voice low and laced with promise despite the smirk which tugged at the corner of his mouth. He tapped said fingers gently not quite in the place she wanted them.

"I wanted to go slow." Vivien protested through a low moan.

Anders smiled at her with feline indulgence, then leaned in close to her ear. "Oh don't worry," He whispered. "I think turnabout is fair play. I plan to be _excruciatingly_ slow."


	7. My Undoing

**This week's prompt was 'Undone', courtesy of Amondra at the BSN. Seeing as I wrote my first smut piece last week, I thought I'd progress to something a little more explicit for this one. This is pretty NSFW. Hope it works! Karl has been rejecting Anders' advances so the younger mage decides to try his luck again and gets a bit of a surprise.**

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><p><span>My Undoing<span>

Karl was seated behind the desk when Anders arrived in the classroom. He had what Anders suspected was another great tome on creation spells, rather than the mana focus manuals they had been perusing in recent sessions. This book was significantly larger.

Anders could hardly blame the older man for wanting to make sure his spells didn't increase in power. After all, he had, for all intents and purposes, abused Karl's kind offer of lessons by using a paralysis glyph for less than educational reasons. He had a sneaking suspicion that jumping someone whilst immobilised was not generally the _done_ thing; especially when one was trying to woo said someone.

Karl noticed him as he walked forwards, and put the book down. Anders couldn't quite read the expression on Karl's face but it looked a lot like apprehension. Regardless, he smiled at the apprentice.

"I thought we'd try out some of the summoning type spells this evening. They're the easiest, but you'll use up a lot of mana by doing them incorrectly." He said, voice just a little falsely bright. Anders smiled back in acknowledgement.

They had seen each other in Enchanter Wynne's classes after their last session. That had been the only time they'd been in the presence of one another, and Karl hadn't seemed half so awkward then. Although thinking back on the past week Anders realised that Karl had been expending rather a lot of energy on answering Finn's many, _many_ questions about the proper applications and maintenance of auras. And the trainee Enchanter seemed to be having a lot of meetings which took place immediately after lessons, or during Anders' free time.

So if Karl was avoiding him, why did he agree to another private session? Anders arrived at the desk and dropped down into the other chair, long limbs awkwardly arranged in the least uncomfortable position he could manage. Karl picked up the book again and flipped it open to a marked page.

"I'm sure you've already been taught the simple grease spell, so we'll just move on to how to improve your efficiency with it." Karl said. He was using his 'teacher' voice.

Realisation dawned on Anders then. Karl was trying to make everything _normal_ between them; pretend that Anders _hadn't_ snogged him senseless last week. Granted, he hadn't been able to respond, what with being paralysed and everything. But he'd taught Anders well, and the young mage had been easily able to detect Karl's increased heart beat and temperature. Well, that just wouldn't do.

Anders hummed in assent. "Whatever you think's best." He said absently.

Karl searched his face then, as though checking that Anders meant what he said. The young mage returned an indolent smile, his face open and entirely passive. Two could play at that game. Seemingly satisfied Karl returned his gaze to the book to pick out a specific passage, and Anders seized his opportunity. He slid his hand quickly and smoothly over Karl's knee.

"Although I can think of _other_ things you could be teaching me." He said, leaning forward with a lascivious smirk.

In a flash Karl had slammed the book shut and pushed himself away from Anders. "I _knew_ this was a bad idea." He said, more to himself than the other mage. He saved an irritated glare for Anders though. He didn't see Karl angry, well, _ever_ really. It was kind of hot. Karl stood up, continuing to glare down at him. Definitely hot. "I don't think we should continue these sessions any more Anders. You can see yourself out." The older man turned and walked away towards the shelves, book in hand.

Interesting. Anders stood himself and followed. "Come on." He cajoled. "I'm hot, you're hot, we both like each other. What's the problem?"

Karl had reached his destination and was hastily fumbling to return the book to its rightful place. "You _know_ what the problem is. I'm almost _twice_ your age Anders. You should be with someone your own age." Karl said, turning to fix the younger mage with another glare.

Anders merely shrugged at this. He sauntered around Karl to stand behind him, trailing fingers along the other man's arm suggestively. Karl held Anders' gaze until he could turn his head no further. "But I don't _want_ someone my own age. I want _you_." Anders said decisively.

Karl returned his attention to putting the book back on the shelf, attempting to ignore Anders. The young mage's fingers found their way to the back of Karl's neck, lightly stroking the sensitive hairs there. Karl shrugged his shoulders in an effort to remove Anders' hand as he finally succeeded in replacing the book.

"Anders, _don't_." Karl said, warning apparent in his voice.

Anders ignored him, smirking to himself. "I know you _want_ to -" Whatever he had been about to say went clean out of his head as yet again Karl proved he was hardly _old_, by spinning around and catching Anders' hand with cat-like reflexes.

Their eyes locked for a split second, something wild there, before Karl pulled roughly on Anders' arm, forcing him to stumble into an awkward embrace, and kissed him the way Anders had only ever been kissed in his dreams. So that was a bit unexpected. Suddenly Anders found himself being pushed backwards towards the wall. Yes, this was definitely a development.

Karl's tongue pressed insistently against Anders' lips, begging entrance, and Anders complied with a low groan as his back hit the wall. He hadn't been expecting the normally mild Enchanter to be this forceful, pinning him with hitherto unseen strength. Anders struggled a little against the other man's grip, after all, he had been doing all the chasing, _he_ should be the one to claim his prize. Both men battled each other for dominance, lips moving feverishly, bodies writhing against each other.

Eventually Anders gave in to the fact that Karl was in charge here. And Maker, did he seem to know what he was doing. The man was doing things to him with his mouth that seemed to turn his insides molten.

Since Anders had stopped struggling Karl seemed to have no need to hold him still. The hand which had been gripping his wrist, almost painfully tight, travelled to his hip. He gasped. Flames, he actually gasped, he never did that. Karl only chuckled into his mouth at this, breaking the kiss slightly.

"What's so funny?" Anders said defensively, turning his head away a little in a futile attempt to hide his blush.

Karl smiled with wicked indulgence then. "You." He replied, amusement continuing unabated. The older man pressed forward again, this time kissing along Anders' jaw line and down his neck, his scrubby beard tickling against Anders' throat. At the same time the inquiring fingers of the hand Karl had at his hip had managed to find a gap in his robes, and were running up the bare flesh of his thigh. Oh yes, that would shut him up. Eventually that hand moved to where Anders was aching to be touched, and he moaned loudly, embarrassment forgotten in the wake of such _wonderful_ sensations.

Karl jumped a little in surprise, and that mouth of his ceased its journey down his neck for a moment as he regarded the younger mage curiously. "No smalls Anders?" He asked with one eyebrow raised.

Anders tried to come up with a suitable answer. "Well, I . . . uhh . . ." Fuck, it was hard to think with Karl's hand on his cock, and his fingers stroking like _that_.

Karl pressed his face close to Anders ear, and whispered, voice slightly ragged; "Clever boy." He pressed his mouth hard into Anders' throat before descending further.

"Wha . . . what are you . . .?" Anders failed to complete his sentence as Karl knelt down in front of him. He felt a rush of cool air as the older mage parted his robes, holding them out of the way by pressing arms into hips. Anders looked down then, desire spiking through him at the sight that met his eyes. Maker, this was actually happening.

Then the wet heat of Karl's mouth was around his cock. His mind went blank and his knees buckled. Anders was suddenly quite glad of the wall supporting him. His breath caught in his throat as he tilted his head back, eyes screwed shut, biting his lip to keep from calling out.

He didn't know what to do with his hands. They flailed around ineffectually for some moments as Karl did things with his mouth that Anders swore were magic. He settled for gripping onto the wall he was now leaning heavily against with one hand, and entwining the other in Karl's hair.

He had _never_ done anything like this before. Oh, he was far from innocent, but life as an apprentice in the Circle Tower tended only to afford time for a snog in the shadowed corners of the library, or a quick fumble in the bathing quarters if you happened to be the last two, before the templars caught on. _This_ was entirely new. And Anders cursed the fact that he wasn't going to last long enough to truly enjoy it. He hadn't managed to get away for a crafty wank for days, and now the object of all his recent fantasies was licking and sucking and fondling in the most wonderful ways possible.

He could feel the heat pooling low in his gut, and he whimpered through ragged breaths, all pretence at decorum thrown out the window, as his hips bucked into Karl's mouth. The older mage pressed harder against Anders thighs to hold him still. Between his increasingly desperate exhalations of 'ah' he heard himself swear. He felt Karl's lips twist into a smile at that, then close tightly around the length of him and suck hard.

Anders couldn't take any more. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him as his body tensed and then shuddered with release. He was certain he had cried out, but be wasn't sure why that mattered just now. Karl allowed his hips to jerk forward a few times before he withdrew. Anders missed the sensation almost immediately.

Then the pressure that had been holding him against the wall lifted, and he found himself sliding down it into a boneless heap at the bottom. His legs were still shaking. But he was face to face with Karl now, and he could see that the other mage's lips were delightfully pink and slightly swollen. Very kissable. Anders just about managed to beckon him forwards, and Karl happily obliged.

When they broke apart Anders was a little more lucid. The silly smile he was sure was plastered over his face was reflected back at him in Karl's expression. It amused him. "Ooh, Enchanter Thekla, I _like_ your special classes." He said breathily.

Karl laughed at that. "Yes, I rather enjoy them too." He replied, smiling.

Anders was struck with a sudden thought then. He leaned forward, running a hand up Karl's leg. The other man groaned in response. "I should return the favour." He said, smirking suggestively.

Karl groaned again, but this time in disappointment. "Anders, I'd love that." He began, and Anders face lit up. "But, it's almost your curfew."

"Sod the blighted curfew!"

A dangerous look crossed Karl's eyes again. "I want to be able to do this again, Anders. If we get caught tonight that certainly won't happen!" It seemed to pain him to say it.

Anders sighed and rearranged his robes. Karl stood and helped him to his feet. His knees were still wobbly. Maker damnit! How would he get back to the apprentice quarters with no-one noticing _that_?

"Is that a promise then?" Anders asked hopefully.

"Hmm, is what a promise?"

"That we'll do this again?"

Karl wrapped his arm around Anders' waist, and pulled him in for another kiss. "Oh yes, I think so. Extra lessons are a must for spirit healers Anders, and you have a lot still to learn."


End file.
